Sweet and Low
by DevDev
Summary: Claire makes people see her... even if they don't want to. She does it because she can. Characters: Sawyer, Claire, Juliet, Desmond, Jack, Aaron, Kate


Disclaimer: Third story in my 'Can't Love, Can't Hurt' series, which I've borrowed from Augustana's cd of the same name. This story comes from their third track, _Sweet and Low_. It takes place after Sawyer's jump from the helicopter on this season's finale. Let's just pretend that some how, some way, Aaron happened to be on the helicopter at that time. It just helps this story out a tiny bit. Hope everyone enjoys! (ps: I don't own Lost and never will in the future, boo.)

* * *

_Anywhere you go, anyone you meet,_

_Remember that your eyes can be your enemies,_

_I said, hell is so close and heaven's out of reach, _

_But I ain't giving up quite yet,_

_I've got too much to lose…_

///

He kisses Kate goodbye. Turns to meet her eyes one last time, but its Aaron's gaze that meets his own before he dives from the helicopter. Baby blues against the sky. Baby blues against the ocean. It's only when he hits the water, his feet in first, his head in second, that he realizes they aren't Aaron's eyes at all. They are Claire's.

It's her eyes that tell him which way is up and which way is down. It's her breath he breathes when he emerges from the water, soaked to the skin. It's her golden hair, shaped like the rays of the sun that warm him. It's her small hand that grabs his own and pulls him in the right direction, back to the beach. It's her smile that leaves him on the sand, the last thing he sees before passing out.

Her laugh is what wakes him. The sun has burnt him, left him raw and red with its anger. Her small hand has left scratches on the inside of his forearm, pulsating with heat.

Sawyer hears her voice. Soft, low and steady against his ear. "Find me," she says.

And then she screams.

///

Juliet doesn't ask any questions when Sawyer takes a bunch of guns and runs straight into the jungle. Simply turns to the blonde haired blue eyed Australian next to her and smiles.

Oh well.

///

He finds Claire. But it's not her.

Blonde shining hair, blue smiling eyes, but something is different. Something is not the same.

This Claire wears the crash outfit. Outfitted in a black tank and too short of a black skirt. But Sawyer doesn't even take notice. What he sees and can only see is her swollen belly, stretching the fibers of the black tank she wears.

She's _lounging_ for God's sake. Stretched out on a branch with her pale legs crossed at the ankle. Her palms rest on her belly, slowly tracing across it. She's humming an unnamed tune softly, singing to Aaron.

He whispers her name and her eyes burst open. She stands abruptly, leaning against the branch that just held her weight a second ago.

"Oh, it's you," she says and laughs nervously. Stands straighter and twirls her long, curly locks around a finger. "We haven't had a chance to talk since the day after the crash, have we? I was just waiting for Charlie. We're supposed to go for a walk! It's such a nice day, don't you think?" She giggles again.

He whispers her name once more, frozen in his boots. So unsure of what to do next. This can't be real.

"You know, I've been wondering about you," and she inches closer. "About you and Kate and Jack. I've been wondering about Ethan, too. And how yours was the only face I could see when… well, you know when." She's next to his face now and he can't remember how she got there. Touches his hair, smoothes it against his face and keeps her hand there. "I always did like your hair wet." And now her breath is against his ear, tickling him there. "Sometimes you make me wet, Sawyer."

He closes his eyes and leans against her pregnant form. So very close to kissing her senseless, despite whatever the hell is going on. He takes a breath. But when he opens his eyes, Claire is gone.

It starts to rain. His hair gets wet.

///

Desmond doesn't sleep any more.

The first few weeks with Penny are beautiful and breathtaking and everything he ever wanted. Then the dreams start and nothing about living on a boat in the middle of nowhere is perfect anymore.

Sometimes he sees Charlie. Charlie choking on the blue waters that surround them. Charlie and his taped fingers, pressed against the circled window. Charlie's face after he said goodbye to Claire. Charlie's face as Desmond told him about the last vision – the vision where Claire and Aaron got into a helicopter and flew away from the island – the vision that never happened.

But those aren't the worst of it all. The worst part is when he dreams of Claire.

Desmond now knows Claire's eyes are the bluest only after she's been crying. Desmond now knows what her screams sound like and how many different kinds there are. Desmond now knows what she tastes like and how she moves under him and over him and with him; how she _feels_. So different from Penny. And if at all possible, so much more real than him and Penny ever were or are now. Maybe that makes him crazy. Maybe he doesn't care.

He swears these aren't even dreams, but perhaps just different visions. All his visions are of things that won't happen – will never happen – now. Not like before. Or maybe, very much like before.

He doesn't dare tell Penny. Hides the erection that even Penny herself can't make go away and flees from their bed. It doesn't make him feel less guilty to jerk off into the sea thinking of Claire, but he does it anyway.

He calls them his punishments now, not visions. He never thought punishment could feel so blissfully good and so horribly wrong all at once. He knows he deserves every bit of it.

Desmond doesn't sleep. Because Claire visits him all the time, now. Is with him every part of every day and it doesn't quite matter if he's asleep or awake. And he doesn't – **can't** – tell her to go away. He doesn't want to.

Penny hears Claire's name whispered a hundred times a day, a thousand times at night, but doesn't ask. And Desmond doesn't tell.

Claire does this because she can.

///

The next time Sawyer sees Claire, he doesn't recognize her. Her hair is black against her alabaster skin, her blue eyes rimmed with kohl. She doesn't recognize him either, maybe.

It's been a day since he last saw her and for a man who doesn't know where he's going, he figures he's made at least some sort of ground. It doesn't surprise him all too much when he sees a dark haired figure down along the path. What does surprise him though, is that this dark haired girl is actually Claire. Or… not Claire. Whatever.

They stare at each other. Claire is poking her head around a large leaf, perched and ready to run while Sawyer is out in the open with blatant confusion etched onto his face. He doesn't grab for his gun and he can tell that this almost makes this strange new Claire comfortable. He realizes she's younger than normal and then almost smirks at the idea. So Mamacita was an emo. Kinda cute in a way.

"Uh… you Kim's friend? She did say something about sending someone out to check on me if I didn't come back…"

Sawyer doesn't respond. He figures it's better to just listen to whoever – no, **what**ever – these things are, than to respond at all. He stands where he is, listening to Claire's younger tone. She fidgets with her hair for a second before stepping out behind the leaf and into his direct view.

"Well, listen, I don't need anyone looking after me, alright? I know she thinks we'd be great together or whatever, but I'm really not looking for that right now." Pauses, steps forward lightly and studies him once more. Her eyes flash before she says, "You are kind of cute though. A little old for my taste, but beggars can't be choosers, right?" Claire's small hand is on his chest before he can move, quickly sliding along the material of his shirt, occasionally dipping beneath the collar. "You understand, don't you? Just… needing to be free for a while?" The hand stops moving.

Her blue eyes gaze into his. Suddenly filled with such sorrow and remorse, he's not so surprised when she starts to cry. Her eyes are so blue when she cries. "They say it's my fault," she whispers. "She'll be in a coma for like ever because of me."

Her hand moves again. This time she wraps her hand around his neck and tugs her body against his, moving slowly to music he cannot hear. "I all but killed my mother, Sawyer. Killed her with words besides. And when she woke up? I wasn't there. And you wanna know why?'

And she leans her upper body back, smashing her lower body into Sawyer's groin. Wraps her legs around his back as he lifts her into the air and crashes her spine into the trunk of the tree she had been hiding behind only moments before. They buck against one another hard, fully clothed, barrier against barrier. He kisses her collarbone and then her neck, pauses to suck on an earlobe. Gasps out a why.

She pulls herself away and looks down at him, her eyes so blue they burn him.

"Because my brother killed me."

///

The world moves with the music. Jack, shirtless, lies in an unmade bed, sheets tangled around his ankles. High. Drunk. This is after.

He fingers the blonde strands next to his outstretched arm, twisting and pulling the strands as if they are strings on a guitar. He's playing his favorite song.

It isn't Claire lying next to him in bed, nor is it Kate or Sarah or anyone he even knows. This woman – girl really – is a stranger and yet he knows her more intimately than any other stranger. Already loves her more than he ever could love his dad. Loves her more than he knew how to love his sister. Loves her more than his nephew. Because when he looks at this stranger and feels aching, it's of an entirely different kind.

Hates his dad. Hates his sister. Hates his nephew.

Hates himself.

Once upon a time, he was a doctor. He was supposed to protect and serve and help and heal. And once upon a time, he did. He did protect and serve and help and heal back on that fucking island in the middle of nowhere. But never enough for her. Never enough for his own sister and her son. Subscribed her sedation when she was being attacked. Hardly looked or cared when she was taken. Wasn't there when his nephew was born when he could have if he hadn't been trying to save a stranger. When his nephew screamed with fever, he patronized Claire and went back to pushing buttons every one hundred and eight minutes. Thought she was crazy.

Didn't believe her.

Left her.

When he takes his drugs. When he swallows a burning cup of alcohol. When he fucks young girls with blonde hair. When he sees his dad. He wants her to appear. Just once he wants to see her again no matter what it takes. But she never visits him.

Or maybe he just can't see her. Jack never could.

Every time Claire slides her hand down his naked bicep, across the maps of his tattoos, she sees him.

Because Claire always could.

///

Claire is a little girl. Her hair is the blondest he has ever seen it. Untouched by the sun. Untouched by the years. Standing in a white nightgown amongst the forest leaves, she sees Sawyer before he sees her. She's holding a baby doll, swathed in a blue blanket, tightly against her chest. She's crying.

He asks her what's wrong and she answers in her oh-so familiar lilt, but in a lighter way… the youngest way. "I'm four today. Mummy says I'm a big girl now and that I shouldn't cry wh-when Daddy doesn't come to my parties, b-b-but I did anyway. He sent me this baby."

She sniffles before saying simply, without prompt, "His name is Aaron."

In the silence that surrounds him, Claire turns toward another direction as if someone is calling her. "Mum says it's time for bedtime." Walks off into oblivion, but not before turning around and whispering to him.

"Clem-Cl-Clementine told me her Daddy doesn't come to her birthdays either. Sawyer? Why are you an' my Daddy so much alike?"

She disappears but not before he hears her say, "Love you, Aaron."

For the first time, he follows this Claire. Can't see her anymore, but heads backwards in the direction she goes. He isn't quite sure of who he is anymore. He isn't quite sure of anything.

///

On Aaron's fourth birthday, he asks Kate where his Daddy is. When she struggles to answer him, he fills the silence with another question. He asks her why he doesn't look like her. Asks her who that blonde lady is who visits him at night sometimes. Pulls a silver, sparkling star out of his right pocket and tells her he saved this one for a rainy day, just like the pretty blonde lady who looks like him said he should do. Sings it to him over and over and over.

Aaron starts singing the song. Hums it under his breath all day long.

Kate never sang that song to Aaron. He wants to know why.

Claire crosses her arms, looks at Kate and smiles.

"Mine."

///

He finds her. He saves her.

Doesn't know if she's a ghost or alive or a little bit of both. Doesn't matter either way. He's found her – the real her – and he couldn't care less about the before. He couldn't care less about the after.

Just touches her as much as she lets him. In her hair, on her arms. Anywhere he can reach. Hugs her petite body to his own as tightly as he can without crushing her bones. Mutters something against her blonde hair, thanks the Lord the strands aren't black and breathes in what can only be described as _Claire._

She struggles against him without a sound. So he lets her go.

But maybe he doesn't let her go, not fully anyway. Just enough to see that her eyes are unfocused. Enough to see that maybe she truly isn't herself. Enough to know that he's come too far to give up now. Because he knows her now. Knows every little piece of her. And he won't pretend he doesn't.

Sawyer feels as if he's known Claire throughout her entire life.

Maybe he has.

So there she is looking up at him in this way he's never seen before. And before he can stop himself, he tilts her chin with his filthy hand and kisses her.

And when she kisses him back, her eyes shifting back into focus, they pretend they both don't notice the whole world shifting.

But it does.

This, of course, is before she wraps her legs around his waist and he lifts her into the sky and against the bark of a tree. Then the world… it **really** moves. A bit like before. But when he wakes up, Claire is still there. **Really** there. In all the ways that count.

And maybe, he's perfectly happy he jumped from that helicopter in the first place.

///

Aaron cries for days when the blonde lady stops visiting him at night, but clutches his star like a lifeline. Holds on tight all day every day until Kate **begs** him to let her take it from him because she doesn't quite know where he got it from and, God, Aaron... just please!

He doesn't let her.

Jack doesn't notice anything different. But maybe he doesn't sleep as well and maybe the burn of alcohol isn't quite enough anymore. Rallies his efforts in convincing Kate and the others to go back. Because he knows they **have **to. He wants to see Claire and realizes that this will be the only way possible. _If she's even alive_. But he refuses to even think such a thing.

Desmond doesn't know whether to be happy or sad when Claire just isn't there one day. It doesn't provide the relief he's been hoping for, so used to seeing her so often. If anything, he whispers her name one thousand times more at night. Penny won't touch him. She can't touch him. Because he misses _her_.

Juliet misses Claire and the comfort she provides during the day and during the night. But she knows and has faith that Claire will be returning soon. She will be different, but it might just be okay. Everything might be okay.

_Everything __**will**__ be okay_.

That's what they all keep telling themselves anyway.

Claire isn't there to tell them otherwise. Not anymore at least.

///

The island finally stops moving. And it's when Claire, without the influence of Jacob or Christian Shepard, wakes up.

Claire knows every piece of Sawyer now. Without real words, without fully remembering how, she knows everything. Has a vague memory of Sawyer, with wet hair and **want**. No. **Need**.

And then suddenly she remembers the hurt. Memories of her father, taking her in the middle of the night and losing Aaron along the way. Memories of a blonde boy asking about the lullaby with stars and quietly slipping such a thing into his pocket; a brother who could never see her; of a Scottish man she's driven to the brink of insanity just because she **could**; and of a woman she didn't drive insane simply because she didn't have to, because she was already there without any kind of help.

And then there are the different memories. There are the memories with Sawyer when she was just a little girl, when she was a rebellious teen, after the crash and after the mess and before Aaron. It's impossible but possible at the same time because nothing is impossible on this island even if she's just learned it. Claire has been here forever, but at the same time not really. In forever she has been off the island too. She knows everything about the island and Rousseau and why Jacob took away the babies and gave Ben the last one – Alex. She knows about Sayid and Ben and Sun and the rest of the Oceanic Six (really eight of them) and exactly what they are doing and just how soon they'll all be back.

She knows her baby isn't a baby anymore, but she knows that he knows exactly who she is. It won't be so hard when Kate brings him back, despite the nightmares Kate will always have about both of them returning. The Oceanic Six will come, she knows. She remembers it all.

She doesn't remember how she got to this clearing though. Just remembers waking with the sun in her eyes and Sawyer's name on her red lips. _James_. She knows him too and won't pretend anymore either. She might love him a little, even without Jacob's input on such a matter.

She might love him a lot.

So she curls into him just a little bit, as they lay naked, underneath a canopy of trees. When the time comes, he'll carry her home and they will wait. Claire will tell James everything… so he knows and so she can bear it better. And James will believe her and help ease her burden, the burden of knowing.

And he will love her anyway.

///

_The rain is gonna fall, the sun is gonna shine,_

_The wind is gonna blow, the water's gonna rise,_

_She said, when that day comes, look into my eyes,_

_No one's giving up quite yet, we've got too much to loose…_


End file.
